


The Gladiator and the Slave

by thewallflower07



Series: Sherlock and John through time [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Ancient Rome, Consent Issues, Enthusiastic Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, Historical AU, Johnlock-Freeform, M/M, Master!John, Master/Slave, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slave Sherlock Holmes, Slave Trade, Slave!lock, Slavery, Swordfighting, forced blowjob, graphic description of violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-10 17:58:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15954575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewallflower07/pseuds/thewallflower07
Summary: When John buys himself a slave on a whim, he never expected to be so endlessly fascinated with his purchase. Sherlock is beautiful and brilliant, and together they try to master their difficult circumstances and the dangerous times around them.*discontinued at the moment*





	1. A new slave

**Author's Note:**

> I am writing a series of unconnected Historical Johnlock AUs. My first one takes place in Ancient Rome. I have done some research, but please excuse any creative freedom I have taken. Words in Latin are in cursive.  
> This fanfic heavily deals with the dark topic of slavery in Ancient Rome and everything that comes with it, so please proceed with caution and read the tags and warnings!
> 
> I changed some side character names too, so it sounds more Roman.

> _Slaves in Ancient Rome were the backbone of the Roman society. Most of them were kidnapped or prisoners of War, and they were sold on slave markets. They were used for all kinds of work, as cooks, dressmakers, hairdressers, servants, teachers, in small workshops making goods, as prostitutes. The worst fate was waiting for the ones rowing on the war ships, working in the mines' underground, or digging on the sunburned fields until total exhaustion. _
> 
> _They were not paid for their work and had to obey their owner’s every whim. If they dared to run away, their chances of success were slim, and if caught, they could be killed. The masters could punish disobedient slaves however they want, the slave could not testify in court against them. Forced sex was quite common._  
>  _A good master would treat their slaves well, because an equally good replacement might be hard to find. The Roman writer Seneca said that a well-fed slave was a better worker._  
>  _It is unknown how many slaves existed in the Empire, but a rich man could have owned about 500 slaves, an emperor even over 2000._  
>  _The slave could only be freed if their masters allowed it or if they earned the money back their masters had paid for them. That was almost impossible._

 

 

Today was the birthday of the glorious emperor, and the citizens of Rome expected a bloodbath. John intended to deliver them one. One way or another.  
He soldiered his long spear in his right hand and the short sword, his _gladius_ , in his dominant left hand. John entered the arena and thousands of voices cheered at his sight. The sun burned down on all of them, the sand under his feet was dry, and the overwhelming heat gave the situation a sense of madness.  
He had been a gladiator for nearly two years, after the war had ended. An arrow had hit his shoulder on the last battlefield, and the army didn’t want him any more. His shoulder had slowly healed, his search for a fulfilling life not. He preferred a certain death in the Colosseum over a boring life in the streets of Rome. He was in the middle of his twenties and John already regarded his life as over.  
  
John could have easily worked as a doctor, he had the needed skills, but he didn’t want to treat rashes, burns or deliver babies for the rest of life. So he voluntarily joined a Gladiator school, which was practically unheard-of. Most of them were slaves or prisoners. At the beginning no one had trusted him, they thought him mad, but that changed after he helped them with their training, cared for their wounds and brought honour and more money to the school with his wins. Today would be his masterpiece. If he was killed on this day, over thirty thousand people would watch him dying.

 

 

His enemy was wearing a peacock plumbed crest and was armed with a heavy net and a sharp trident. John always thought such extravagant armor was ridiculous and had chosen his usual leather protection for his chest, his arms and his legs. Both of them wore helmets. It was unusual that someone fought without a shield, but John’s fighting style was better without it. That way he was able to move much faster. He knew he had to be careful that the net didn’t catch him, otherwise his opponent would simply stab him to death.  
  
His sandals clad feet scrapped against the rough surface when the starting tone resounded. The audience erupted into loud screams. John started to sprint directly to his enemy, who stood there, legs spread, waiting for him. John threw his spear with a firm arm move, and it landed right in the shoulder flesh of his rival. The man crashed to his knees, gasping, and when John was finally over him, he just had to punch the trident out of his hand and put his _gladius_ to the man’s neck. He looked terrified at John, who was waiting from a signal. It was a relatively short fight, and the audience thirsted for more blood. Sure enough, the emperor gave him the sign to kill.  
  
John decided to show mercy and quickly beheaded the man. Some blood splashed on his armor and his face, but he ignored it. Clean and efficient, the other gladiator was probably a slave. He didn’t have to suffer more than necessary. The people loved him for his fighting skills and the ruthlessness in his aim, and he would not disappoint them. He grabs the head by the brown hair and lifts it up. Over the sound of his loud beating heart, he heard the arena explode, chanting his (made-up, Roman name).

 

“IOHANNES! IOHANNES! IOHANNES!“

  
  
John soaked up their praise, although he wasn’t interested in their love. Maybe tomorrow they would throw flowers at his murderer. Life as a gladiator was unpredictable, and that’s what John loved the most about it. He was never bored.  
  
The leader of the gladiator school, the _ludus_ , Gregor, grinned at him when John went back to the chambers. He had met Gregor two years ago, when he returned from the war in Spain. The man had made John an offer he couldn't refuse, and so he ended up in the arena.

  
“Congratulations, John! You deserve a treat today.“

  
John smiled. Hopefully the treat was something fluid. He hadn't had ha a good wine in ages. Or maybe a new table for his home?

  
“Thank you, Gregor.“

  
Gregor clapped him on the shoulder.  
  


“Anything for my best gladiator! Come with me now.“

  
The two men walked, to John’s endless surprise, to the _Graecostadium_ behind the Basilica Julia in the Roman Forum. It was an extremely popular slave market in Rome. John’s heart shuttered. Did Gregor want to buy him his own slave?  
  
John was not a citizen of Rome by birth. When he and his sister Harriet, though she prefers Harry, were young children, a decorated Roman soldier,  Flavius, had adopted them, after a fire had killed their parents and burned down most of the village, and brought the siblings to the capital. He could have easily made them into slaves, but he and his wife Julia had treated them like their own. It was Flavius who taught John everything about medicine and it was also him who gifted John his first sword. He didn’t remember much from his past life and his parents, only pale faces, but Harriet told him that they were British people, who had migrated to the rural area around Rome. Harriet decided to be called 'Harry' when she was 9, and John, being the younger one, didn't dare to refuse.

Flavius and Julia had owned several slaves. Julia had a maid, Flavia, who made her hair and helped her dress and also raised John and Harry. John had very fond memories of her, but he also knows that Flavius had used her regularly to warm her bed. They also had a cook, a gardener, a personal servant for Flavius and later also a teacher, who taught John and Harriet how to read and write, to play chess and to speak Greek.  
Of course, slaves were a very important part of the Roman Empire. They were everywhere, working for their masters, running orders, or simply waiting for them to come to bed. They had no citizens right, could always be sold and bought again, could be branded and chained and whipped and killed without any repercussions for their owners.  
That’s just the way it is. Some people were lucky, many were not, the gods decided the rest. That’s how the Roman Empire became the greatest civilization on earth. John could not understand people who killed their slaves — why waste healthy resources? Grotesque cruelty was frowned upon, however, if a slave would not behave, disobey or even worse, humiliate their master, he had every right to punish his property. That’s the way Flavius had taught him too. Treat your slave with a firm hand, and you will have a good life.  
  
The _Graecostadium_ was, as always, full of people. Slaves were lined up on platforms, most of them naked, bound to stakes. Groups of people stood around them, listening to the eager seller who praised the man’s or woman’s best attributes. The sun was burning down on them and the heat was stifling. John wondered if his parents left the north because of the bad weather. Rain was seldom seen in Rome.

Gregor had patiently followed John’s observations.

  
  
“Now, then. You know I trust you immensely, John, you are like a friend to me.“

  
  
Really? John was surprised. He didn’t want to make friends. He didn’t want people to mourn him after his inevitable death, and he didn’t trust anyone, not after that arrow landed in his shoulder. The gladiator had used up all his luck when Flavius found them, and after his near death on the battlefield he considered himself living on burrowed time.

  
  
“I know you are a volunteer gladiator, so I can’t force you to do anything, and I would love to have you a little longer at my school. After all, the people love you. Just choose a slave, any slave, to warm your bed tonight.“

  
  
Gregor grasped his shoulders again and handed him a small leather purse, full of gold coins. He winked at John happily and disappeared somewhere in the crowd.  
John spent the next hour watching slave auctions in the Septa, where the most popular slaves were sold. A woman with long brown hair and dark eyelashes was sold for thrice the coins John had received from Gregor. She stood naked on the stage, looking extremely proud, despite the dozens of hungry eyes leering at her marvelous body. There were bite marks all over her breasts, and from what John could gather, she was called Irena, a famous bed slave who could tire even the biggest man in bed out. John was kind of glad that Irena happened to be so expensive, he feared she would throttle him in sleep. John mused if her extreme confidence made her so attractive.

  
Next up, they brought a very thin and surprisingly pale man on the platform. He looked a bit younger than John, maybe two or three years. John pushed himself closer to the stage to see him more clearly. He had dark hair with curls, sharp cheekbones, full lips and shining eyes. In short, he looked gorgeous, and the other spectators were whispering in excited voices.  
The slave tried to push against his masters, but they hold him tight and finally cuffed him to the stake. There was an iron collar around his long neck, which must be quite uncomfortable, manacles around his wrists and ankles, and the seller pushed a gag in his mouth and tied something around his head to keep him quiet. He was wearing a bit of fabric around his waist. There was a big bruise over his left eye and several others across his body. One foot was whitened with chalk, indicating he was a new one from abroad. The young man also wore a _tituli_ around his neck, but the writing was so tiny that John couldn’t gather much information.  
John was intrigued. After Spartacus and seventy other slaves had run away, the sellers were much more careful with rebellious slaves.

This slave must be a nuisance if they secured him so tightly! He needed to know more about him.

 

“Citizens of Rome! I got a very special one for you today. Fresh from the British Isles, a man of 21 years, in perfect health, has all his teeth and has had no sicknesses.“

  
In perfect health? John chuckled. The slave had bruises all over! The fact that he was from the same region as John’s parents seemed too good to be true. Rome was his home, but he had always been interested in his heritage.

  
“He speaks and writes multiple languages, Latin, English, Greek, Arabic, you name it! He also plays the Lyra perfectly and memorizes new information very quickly. You can use him as a teacher for your children!“

 

"I have another thing in mind I could use him for!" , bawled a dark haired man, and the others hooted.

  
John was now more surprised than before. Such an educated slave must have been born in a very noble family. Maybe they wanted to get rid of him and sold him, or his family was called in a siege. The young slave looked absolutely terrified after the dark haired man's suggestion. He tried to wriggle out of his tight bounds again, and the seller slapped him in the face. 

  
“Unfortunately he is quite a mouthful, very unpredictable and likely to run away, so you have to train him. However, there is nothing a bit of training and chains won’t fix!“ 

 

"Let's see what he's got." It was the same man speaking from before. He talked with a foreign accent.

  
A man next to John walked up on the stage, and after a quick look for permission from the seller, he tugged the loose fabric away. The young slave was now standing completely naked, and the sight was breathtaking. John felt his cock waking up and arranged his clothing over it to hide his growing member. This hadn’t happen to him in public since he was a boy, and he felt a bit awkward.  
The slave was now shaking all over, obviously terrified, while the other man was inspecting his genitalia. The inspector tugged at his cock, his other hand wandered around the slaves arse and probably fingered his hole. The slave tried to get away, but the inspecting man only laughed at pressed his waist back against the stack.  
He jumped down again and cried to the waiting Romans: “Looks like he is still untouched!“  
John frowned. A man, only two years younger than him, who didn’t have had sex already? He glanced back at the slave, whose face was red with shame, while dozens of men were openly leering at him.  
  
Oh god, John wanted him as well. The lust was pooling in his stomach. Inexplicably, he also felt a surge of protectiveness for the younger man. It can't be easy to be sold like a pig for slaughter, but as a rule John never wondered about the emotions of a slave. It was too depressing, and why should John, a free man, care? Nevertheless, he must own this slave!

The seller gleefully laughed: “I am going to start the auction now!“  
He began reading out numbers, and the first answers indicated that the price would climb up fast. John had to act quickly now. Gregor had only given him money for renting a slave for one night, but if he used the coins he earned for his fights too, it might work. Coming out of his thoughts, he noticed that only two other man and the man who had the pleasure of touching the young slave were still belting out numbers.  
  
Now or never Watson, thought John.

  
“2200 _sestertii_! “

  
Everyone looked at the newcomer with open mouths. Even the slave had raised his pretty head and stared at John. The seller looked delighted, and the two men dropped out of the selling. Only the inspecting men remained: “ _2300 sestertii_.“  
  
John gnashed his teeth. He couldn’t go much higher. Hopefully the other buyer had the same issue.

 

“2500 _sestertii_! “

  
The other man was resigned, and the seller shouted gleefully “Sold!“ The man looked delighted. His highest expectations for the slave were blown away with John's generous offer.

  
John had just spend all his savings from two years of fighting in the arena for a slave, who, while admittedly beautiful, may cut his throat tonight or run away.  
The seller uncuffed his purchase from the stack, but bound his hands behind his back again. John scooped up the small fabric from the ground and wound it around the man’s waist to hide his cock and ass. He didn’t want anyone else to see what now belonged to him.   
The seller handed John the keys to the chains and a leash. He clipped the other end to the iron collar of his slaves and directed the stumbling man from the platform.  
The other interested buyer approached him. Up close, he looked quite sleazy, and he goggled at John’s property with obvious interest. 

  
“If you ever change your mind about him, contact 'Moriarty'. I will happily take him of your hands.“ It was clear that this Moriarty figure, an aristocrat, thought John below him, but the gladiator was undeterred.

 

“Thanks, but I’m good.“

 

He tugged at the leash, and he and his slave left the _Graecostadium_. The streets of Rome were full of people celebrating the Emperor, so John had to tread carefully, but together they managed.

 


	2. The first night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John arrive at their home. John lays down some ground rules and the two spent their first, very difficult, night together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Forced Blowjob  
>  Unconsensual Kissing and Touching

They arrived at John’s _insulae_ nearly an hour later. His apartment was located on the third and highest floor and consisted of a bigger and a smaller room, that was the bedroom. The rooms under him were free, and the bottom floor housed a small bakery, owned by a lovely older woman.  
John had met her and the husband first when he still lived with Flavius and Julia. They had left both him and Harry a lot of money after their death, but soon almost everything got lost because of the extravagant parties his sister liked to throw and the luxurious wine she drank all day. Harry finally had to sell the remaining slaves and moved into a smaller house in the country, together with her more than friend Claudia.  
John moved into these two rooms after he returned injured from the war, the old woman had gladly rented them to him. Seeing the sparely decorated rooms again, he missed the _domus_ of his childhood years even more.  Flavius often worked in his _tablinum_ , but he always had an open ear for them. Julia preferred their huge garden, and on warm summer nights they had invited dozens of guests and ate until their stomachs were full.

John greeted Mrs Harterius, his landlady.

 

“John, how nice to see you looking so well!“

 

“Thank you. My opponent was not as skilled as he evidently believed himself to be.“

 

“That is good to hear, dear. Who is that?“ , she pointed at his slave.

 

“Gregor gifted me some coins. I just bought him at an auction at the Forum Romanum.“

 

Mrs Harterius looked surprised: “Really, John? Since when are you interested in owning slaves?“ She herself freed her last two ones after her husband had died.

 

John shrugged: “I thought he could be useful. The seller mentioned he can speak all sort of languages and stuff.“

 

Mrs Harterius tutted. “I hope he doesn’t give you any pain, dear. If you need any assistance, just call for me.“

 

“I will, thanks.“ John leads the slave upstairs, while Mrs Harterius cries after them that she could sew new clothes for the young man too.

 

The gladiator sighed. Women like Mrs Harterius were real treasures.  
John’s bigger room accommodated a small table over a red carpet, a long couch, a closet with his clothes, a cupboard for some of his weapons and armor (though most of them were now at the school) and also some medical books John had inherited from Flavius. Most important for him was the storage with his prepared medicine and instruments. John noticed his slave looking at it with interest.  
  
“Sit down.“ John pointed at the couch and the man obeyed. The first hours were probably the most important in their relationship. He had to show his authority and lay down the rules. Fortunately due to his three years in the army he had learned how to play with the voice to give orders.  
John unclipped the leash and put it on the table, then opened the chain around his ankles. At last, he removed the gag from his mouth. His fingers brushed not so accidentally over the pale lips. Everything about this man was desirable. Thank Jupiter it was all his now.  
He towered over the slave.

 

“Listen to me.“

  
The man raised his gorgeous eyes and for a moment John was blinded with the light in it. On the slave market they seemed almost subdued compared too now. They shone in all forms of cover, from light green to deep blue. Something primal in John wanted the young man right on this table, NOW, but he restrained himself. Soon.

  
“What is your name?“ He asked, in a kinder voice.

 

  
“My parents called me Sherlock.“

 

  
Oh gods, his voice. Deeper than he guessed, and it flowed down his back like honey. The moving lips looked even more delicious.

 

  
“That is a very unusual name.“

 

  
“My parents liked unusual things.“

 

  
“Is it all true what your seller said? Can you really speak all these languages?“

 

 

“Yes, I can. My mother taught me.“

 

 

“Your mother?“

 

  
  
“She also taught my older brother, Mycroft.“

 

  
  
The names apparently run in the family. Best not to ask what happened with Sherlock’s relatives, it would only bring bad memories back, decided John. The new life he had now should be important.

  
“The seller mentioned you were quite a mouthful.“

  
  
“My father used to say the same. I know you are 24 years old, fought in the last Roman war, got injured, possibly in the shoulder, your sibling is a drinker and moved away and you are now a popular gladiator and medicus.“

  
  
Silence. John could only blink. Who did he bring into his insulae? Sherlock had bowed his head and played with the chain connecting his wrists.  
  


 

“How did you know all that?“

 

  
The slave took a deep breath and then spoke very fast.  
  


 

“The age thing was a lucky guess, you looked a bit older than me. Of course, you were a soldier at that age and with that muscles. You were using your right hand predominantly during the auction, held your left arm stiffly, your hand was shaking, but when the other buyer talked to you it was perfectly calm and you used it for the leash. So you were wounded in action and are now retired. As a civilian you wouldn’t need so many weapons, so maybe you are a guard or something, but that would be too boring for you, you need the action, so you became a gladiator and joined the arena. You probably have a death wish. The medicus thing was easy, you have equipment all over this room.“

 

  
“How could you possibly know about my siblings drinking?“  
  


 

“There is an unsent letter next to the door addressed to ‚Harriet Watson‘. It must be a sibling because you don’t seem to be the type of man who has many friends. It looks like it has been touched and then let go again several times, there are blotches all over it. You wouldn’t need to send a letter if she still lived in Rome, but you definitely have issues with her. The letter also addressed a Claudia, maybe a friend. It could be that you were interested in her, or something else. Maybe gambling, but I guessed alcohol.“

 

 

“You guessed correctly. All of it.“   
  


 

“Really? I usually get something wrong.“ Sherlock seemed very surprised, like he didn't usually receive high praise.   
  


 

“No, you were brilliant!“, John exclaimed.   
  


 

“That’s not what people usually say.“, said Sherlock quietly.   
  


 

“What do they usually say?“   
  


 

“Lately, mostly a 'shut up!‘ and then I would get in trouble.“ Sherlock starred at his hands again.   
  


 

“Do you often get into trouble?“, asked John curiously.  


 

  
“Oh, yes.“   
  


 

The two men paused for a moment, until John shook himself out of his thoughts. He liked him. Apart from being uniquely gorgeous, he had a quick tongue, a sharp wit and a fast mind. Now he just had to find a way to make all of that his.   
  


 

“From here on, I will call you Sherlock. I like that name and it fits you.“, decided John.   
  


 

Sherlock nodded. Normally a master could decide what to call his slave, most often it’s just a version of his or her own name. He was glad that John didn't choose a degrading nickname.   
  


 

“The handcuffs will stay on until I trust you. You will wear the chain around your feet too when we go out, until I am sure you won’t run away at the first opportunity.“   
  


 

John coughed and continued: “The iron collar will stay on you indefinitely. I know it must hurt your neck, so in the next days I will look for an alternative.“  
It sounded harsh, even to John’s ears, but he didn’t want to blindly trust the slave, brilliant or not. A firm hand was better than a cut-throat.  
  


 

He waited until he got a whispered “Thank you.“ from the slave.  
  


 

“You will follow and help me around the gladiator school. I can teach you the fundamental medical knowledge for emergencies. You will help me to treat patients. I care for my weapons and armours myself, and I don’t want you to touch them.“  
Handing weapons over to a slave may as well be a death sentence to his owner, and John didn’t want him to commit suicide either.  
  


 

Sherlock nodded again to show his understanding.   
  


 

“You can address me as ‚John‘, I don’t need that ‚Sir‘ or ‚Master‘ stuff. When I say something, you will listen. You will treat me with respect and obey all my orders without hesitating. If you are lazy, slow, or disobey, I will punish you. I won’t kill or hurt you in a long-lasting way, but I can promise you that my punishment will nevertheless be swift and make you feel sorry. Is that understood?“   
  


 

“Yes, sir. I-I mean John.“   
  


 

“Very well. I will have a look at your injuries now. Lay down.“   
  


 

Thankfully, Sherlock had nothing more serious than bruises and scratches, so John applied some soothing cream on it. He allowed his slave to rest on his couch while he prepared their _cena_.  
  


 

“You cost me almost all my savings, so we have to be economical in the next couple of weeks. Here is another rule: What I put on your plate, you will eat.“   
  


 

“I don’t like to eat much, and I tend to skip meals.“   
  


 

“Well, I want you to stay healthy, so you will eat regularly.“   
  


 

“Fine.“ The man pouted, which looked adorable to John.  
  


 

For the _cena_ , John made porridge with olives and some leftover fish. They sat around the long table together, eating their meal in silence. Sherlock had stretched out his impossible long legs, and John couldn’t help but ogle at them once in a while. The slave helped him with the cleaning of their plates, and John opened a bottle of fine red wine, a present from Harry. He mixed it with a bit of water, so they would not get completely drunk. When he returned to the table, Sherlock reacted surprised when he noticed the two glasses.

 

“Am I allowed alcohol?“ , he asks.  
  


 

“On special occasions, yes.“ John hands him the glass, and they both begin to sip.  
  


 

The sun was going down, and the last light gave the room a romantic atmosphere. John finished his wine and then awkwardly jumped back into the conversation.   
  


 

“Are you really still a virgin?“   
  


 

This was an extremely personal question, but John reasoned with himself that, after all, he paid a lot of money for the slave and it was his right to know everything about his belonging.  
  
Sherlock looked at him nervously, then he put his glass down, licked his lip and whispered a ‚yes‘.  
  


 

“At your age?“   
  


 

John himself had his first sexual encounter with a female prostitute when he was fourteen. It had been a very embarrassing affair. Later in the army, he slept with male and female prostitutes. He was interested in one of his fellow soldiers too, but the _decorum_ forbid it. Maintaining your masculinity was very important for the troops, and same-sex with freeborn man would have violated that. This rule does not expand to male prostitutes, slaves, or younger boys (though John was always disgusted by that practice), as long as the freeborn man did the penetrative act and took on the dominant role. You could say that John definitely had experience, and so it was surprising to him that Sherlock, who was after all only two years younger, had absolutely none. Surprised and delighted.  
  


 

“In my childhood I mostly concentrated on my studies. It was hard for me to make contact with my peers, and they often taunted me for my deductions. I was very unpopular, so I stayed away from them.“   
  


 

“Were you interested in women or in men?“   
  


 

Sherlock sighed: “I felt affection for a boy a few years ago, but I never developed feelings for a woman.“   
  


 

“Good.“ , John coughed. “It’s all fine.“  


 

 

“I know it is.“ Sherlock contemplated him: “And you are interested in both. Men and women, I mean.“

 

 

“Yes, I am.“   
  


 

“Why aren’t you married?“   
  


 

John thought back to a story Flavius had told him, about a friend who pleasured himself with a _concubinus_  for a while, before marrying a woman. The concubinus had held an elevated status in the household, and felt threatened by the introduction of a wife. He had later killed himself. John supposed he could treat Sherlock like a _concubinus_ too for a while, but he wasn’t interested in marriage or children. Fighting in the arena was not life-fulfilling, it would be unfair (and very boring) to bring a wife into his sort-of suicide plan.  
Still, the offensive question angered him.  
  


 

John glared at him: “You are not allowed to ask me personal questions!“   
  


 

Sherlock winced and concentrated back on his wine glass.   
  


 

“You are attracted to me.“ , he whispered, and John could detect a sense of fear.  
  


 

“I would not have bought you if I didn’t.“   
  


 

Sherlock tried to curl himself into a ball, but John’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. The brunette gasped.   
  


 

“Tonight, I am going to devour you.“   
  


 

The slave took a hitched breath and started to shake. John stood up and pulled the lanky man by the chain around his wrists to his feet.   
  


 

“Come with me.“ John raised his free hand to stop any protest, and led the quivering man to the smaller room. There was not much in it except another cupboard and a bed. It’s frame was out of bronze, and a mattress filled with feathers lay on top of it. John arranged a few woollen blankets and pillows on it, then turned around.  
  
Sherlock was covering in the corner, white as a sheet. John beckoned him closer.  
  


 

“John, please. I-I… I can cook for you.“   
  


 

John shrugged, not interested: “I like cooking myself. It puts my mind at rest. Come here, now.“   
  


 

The slave wouldn’t stop stammering: “I can play the lira for you, and teach you chess.“   
  


 

The gladiator rolled his eyes. “I can play chess.“   
  


 

“I can teach you Arabian and Spanish and Greek and-.“   
  


 

John had enough. He took the slave by his curls and threw him down on the bed.   
  


 

“I am sure your language skills will come in-handy on another day. Now I’m much more interested in something else.“   
  


 

He pounced on top of Sherlock, and rolled him on his back. Deep blue eyes stared at him, terrified. John leaned over him and pinned the man’s cuffed wrists over Sherlock’s head.   
  


 

“Have you ever been kissed?“   
  


 

The man shook his head.  
  
John couldn’t believe that he was really going to be the first — and possibly only! — to touch this man.

The blond brushed their lips together.  


  
It was like an explosion. Sherlock tasted so sweet, a bit of the wine, but also like adventure, a promise of a far away land John had never set foot into. John sucked Sherlock’s bottom lip into his mouth. The brunette gasped and arched, and the gladiator could feel the gained pleasure pooling directly to his groin. John pressed the younger man’s body deeper into the mattress and laid himself on top of him. Sherlock groaned, if in pain or pleasure, John wasn’t sure.  
His fingers wandered to the small fabric, and he ripped it away. The slave was now completely naked, and John could enjoy the view. The gladiator settled in the space between Sherlock’s legs and opened his own tunica. It gathered around his midsection, and he had to get up to kick it away. He was now standing in front of the bed, and the two men studied each other.

  
Sherlock’s body was pale and long and surprisingly hairless, but he had broad shoulders and probably had muscles too before he was sold into slavery. Now he was mostly skin and bones. His cheekbones protruded from his face and under his eyes were deep shadows. His fingers were quite long and elegant, his nipples flushed and erect. His waist was surprisingly slim for a man, and John could count every one of his ribs. There was fat blue bruise on his stomach, and fingerprints were clearly visible on his hip where someone must have grabbed him. The mental image of a slave handler violating what John considered as his property made him clench his fist.  
Sherlock’s cock was still soft and for John absolutely perfect, though he was a bit more lean than John’s. The slave observed John as well, and the gladiator looked down at himself. He was tanned because of his outdoor work. He had well-built muscles on his arms, legs and stomach. John had lots of reason to be proud of his body. His cock was around a nest of golden hair and proudly erect.

  
He covered Sherlock’s body again with his and rubbed their two cocks together. The thin slave shivered under him, and John shushed him with his lips again. His left hand wandered to the man’s penis, and he started stroking it, with alternating between soft and hard strokes, slow and fast. Sherlock gasped into his mouth, and John took the invitation and swirled with his tongue around his. Sherlock’s head tried to jerk away but the gladiator hold on to him.  
Finally, John moved forward and direct his throbbing, purple cock to Sherlock’s gaping lips.  
  


 

" Come on,“ , he growled, “Suck it.“   
  


 

The slave still hesitated, and John could see the panic in his eyes, but he ignored it. Sherlock was his slave, and he should pleasure him. John slipped forward and moved his cock into Sherlock’s mouth and started to rock back and forward. The brunette was clearly inexperienced and gagged on his thickness. John wrenched his head up, so he had to look him in the eye: “Either you suck it, or you choke. Your choice.“ , he snarled.

  
Sherlock started to move his tongue around the glans, and John gasped. Noticing his positive reaction, the slave became more confident and began to suck on it. The gladiator twisted Sherlock’s nipples and snipped at them to make them harder. John now fucked into Sherlock’s mouth even faster, and he finally came into the slave’s mouth. With the cock still filling his mouth the slave had to swallow it all.

  
Fuck yes, thought John. The 2500 _sestertii_ were worth it for that special  blowjob alone. He settled back between the man’s legs and was just about to start stretching Sherlock’s hole when he finally noticed his surroundings again.  
Sherlock’s cock was half-erect, no wonder because of the sensual sensation, but he was nowhere near as eager as the other people John had slept with were at this point. Not only that, the slave was quivering so terribly, the whole bed shook with him. Silent tears were rolling down his cheek, and he tried to brush away some semen from his mouth, but failed because of his cuffed hands.  
Right.

  
John couldn’t look away from the tear that hang right next to the bruise the slave handler had given him.  
Slavery was the fundamental part of the Roman Empire. Every _familia_ that could afford slaves owned slaves. They were used for cooking, cleaning, gardening, rowing, in the mines, on boats, on the fields, for fishing, teaching, and yes,  fucking.

  
It was John’s right to use Sherlock for all of this, and yet, when he noticed the tears in his eyes and the now obvious discomfort, he could not go on. At the slave market he had felt himself above all the other hungry man, but now he knew he was not different. No law in the world would have stopped him, but his own conscience did. John was not a monster. He beheaded the other man in the arena swiftly, an act he considered merciful, and now he was not able to rape his slave.  
The gladiator slowly moved away from his crying prey. He got them a wet flannel and cleaned first himself, and then with careful movements Sherlock’s body. After he was finished, the slave curled into himself and whispered: “Why did you stop?“   
  


 

“It didn’t feel right.“   
  


 

Sherlock reacted surprised: “That didn’t bother you a few minutes ago.“   
  


 

“I am a bit slow.“   
  


 

Sherlock let out a forced, bitter chuckle: “I noticed.“

  
  
Another awkward silence.  
  
John spread one of his blankets over them both and blew the candle out. Sherlock was still lying curled together on the far side of the bed, facing the wall. John decided to spare him from any more unwanted touches today and closed his eyes. 'I hope he won’t try to throttle me in my sleep', was his last thought, before his eyes fell closed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> insular-small flat  
> tablinum-office  
> domus-big house  
> cena-supper  
> decorum-rules for soldiers  
> concubinus-male prostitute
> 
> This second chapter was a bit longer and came sooner than I intended, but I didn't want to cut it in the middle. Please give kudos or comment.


	3. Domestic Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has lived with John for several weeks now and they have grown closer together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is consensual sex in this chapter.

_3 weeks later..._

  
  
John was training together with a new gladiator in sword-fighting. Gregor had bought him just two days ago, a man around his age from Germania. The man insisted on being named Anders, and John had grudgingly complied. Gregor wasn’t so happy with his new purchase either. Apparently Anderson’s eyesight was rather bad and the slave seller ‚forgot‘ to mention it. Nevertheless, he was here now and needed to be as prepared as possible. Gregor was adamant that the man would at least earn him back the money he cost, and asked John to train him. John didn’t have the heart to protest, given the fact that he had been rather busy the past weeks.  
  
Their swords clanked back together. John rapidly moved his foot and managed to disarm his opponent. Anderson swore like crazy, and he took a step back to give the man some space. If the slave wasn’t prepared to work harder, Gregor would have to punish him. Gladiator schools were a bit like prisons for the fighters, they had to obey their masters, couldn’t leave without permission, punishments were regularly, and they were chained up at night, but at least there was better food here than the prisons. The schools were under a special kind of scrutiny right now after the former gladiator Spartacus with dozens of other fellow slaves.  
A life as a gladiator was a peculiarly hard one, either you were popular with the Roman people and could maybe earn money for themselves (the biggest dream of every slave was to buy themself free, but this dream was seldom fulfilled), or die a brutal death in the arena. For Anderson, it will be the latter one.  
  
The next round they fought with spears, and it was a bit more successful than the swords, but Anderson still moved to slow and John managed to predict every move. This really was no fun, he decided, and told the slave to work with Sallia, one of the female gladiators, for the rest of the day.  
Happy with being rescued from his heavy burden, John walked back to the weapon stall. A smile appeared on his face when he spied Sherlock polishing his metal armour.  
  
He was the reason John had not appeared at the school. After the catastrophic first night, Gladius had visited John at his insulae and told him about the fourth poisoned victim they had found near the Colosseum that night. When he left, Sherlock suddenly developed an interest in that case, he even showed a morbid fascination and asked John if they could go the crime scene. Everything was better than the crying slave he had seen the night before, and with that reasoning the two men found themselves on a spectacular chase through Rome, a very fancy dinner and a missing Sherlock. John had been actually sick with worry, and he told himself it was because of the lost fortune he spent on him, but to be honest, he had learned to care fast about his slave. John managed to find him and the murderer through a series of cleverly dropped clues by Sherlock. The future victim and the predator were engaged in a play of ludus latrunculorum and the murderer was pointing a gladius at Sherlock’s neck when John had stabbed him with his pugio. The gladiator grabbed the slave, and they disappeared into the night, not caring for the bleeding out man. John knew he had done a serious crime, killing a citizen of Rome for threatening a slave was non-negotiable, murderer or not. The man should have been brought before a court, but Sherlock would have been dead by than. That was something John felt he could not risk.

 

“Are you alright? You just killed a Roman citizen.“ , Sherlock had asked him, when they arrived back at his insula.  
  
“He wasn’t a very nice man.“ , John answered, and they both resolved into giggles. It felt so good! John had not been so alive since he missed the army. Joining the gladiator school had been a poor alternative, and it was nothing against the joy he felt now. Heart thumping, hand perfectly still, perfect aim. John felt like himself again, and at that moment he knew that he would do everything to continue experiencing these emotions. Sherlock had brought him back into this world, full of excitement and danger, and therefore, Sherlock had to stay with him. Unbroken, not crippled, but chained. That evening John prepared a bed on the sofa, and that’s where Sherlock had slept ever since. They solved a few other cases, but the most noteworthy for John was the one with the ruined paintings. The artist had paid them money for solving it. For a moment Sherlock looked hopeful, but John had quickly spent it on a new armour and some food.  
They ate together three times a day, went to the market, to the forum, now again to the school, but the slave remained untouched. He continued to sleep in the living room, and the two did not even brush their hands together. Slowly Sherlock seemed to relaxed, and he lost a bit of that haunted look in his eyes. His gracious fingers often fiddled on the collar, and he had to learn to always walk a step behind John, to not address or look at a free man openly and to always obey his masters every wish. The gladiator knew it must have been torture for the man who seemed so much bigger than life, so imposing and sometimes arrogant, the smartest person in Rome, and yet he had to submit.  
John hoped that soon, he would crawl back into his bed, because the gladiator was ready to burst. He had not pleasured himself once, and the desire was eating on him. He could just go to a simple pleasure house, but he knew that no one would compare to the slave lying on his sofa. John wanted to spread these long legs, have these sinful lips and bury himself deep into Sherlock. He knew he could take his slave without question, but he wanted Sherlock to desire him too. John wanted to be Sherlock’s only supplier for pain and pleasure. He wanted to mark Sherlock’s body with his hands and teeth, until the only sound that escaped from the cupid bow was John’s name. Mine.  
There was another thing: John genuinely liked Sherlock. He liked his quick answers, his smart wit, his rapidly whispered deductions in his ear, the tales from Britannia and his vast knowledge about literally anything than the stars (and sex, apparently). He feared if Sherlock dared to run away, John would not be able punish him. John could not even slap him when he dropped his glass one day. Sherlock was a special person, someone John had never seen before, and he did not want to hurt him.  
He would wait for the slave’s consent. Hopefully, the man will say yes soon, because John wanted to show him everything.  
  
When Sherlock was abducted from his homeland to an unknown destination, he knew his life was as good as over. There was nothing to return to anyway. His father had sold him to the slaver, a few months after Mycroft had left to build a great career in the Senate for himself. It was a pure coincidence that Sherlock was brought to Rome as well. On the long way to the capital, he unfortunately had built himself quite a bad reputation among the slavers. He was fast considered a problem and therefore much more guarded than the others. At a stop he was the first they put the iron collar on. Sherlock had struggled so hard that the burn marks on his neck would stay forever. Even if his master would show mercy and free him, these scars would show everyone who he truly was.  
  
A slave.

Of course, he heard the nightmarish stories from the hundreds of men who were crawling around the mines, or the ones getting whipped while rowing a war ship, or the ones growing sunburns on the fields. It all felt so far away though, something that happened to other people, not to the villagers.  
Sherlock should have known better. No wonder Mycroft left him with his parents. He thought his little brother was too frail, to vulnerable, that he trusted others too easily. Mycroft considered himself above all these human things. Sherlock wondered where the other Holmes was now.  
A few months after he travelled away, Sherlock had followed his fathers on a day trip to the next bigger city. His father had spoken to the slaver, received a purse of money, and left. He probably told his mother that her youngest son had run away.  
At first, he had hope when he saw the gates of Rome. Maybe by some miracle, Mycroft would find and buy him? Of course, that was too good to be true. There were thousands of people in Rome, and maybe Mycroft never arrived here, or was killed, or arrested.  
The slaver forced Sherlock on that podium. He stood there, chained to the stack, and looked at the people below for a while. When his numbers continued to climb, he tried to go into his mind palace, but was forced out of his head when one of the Romans started touching him intimately. No one’s hand had ever been down there, and Sherlock felt disgusted and degraded, as the others laughed at his obvious discomfort. He wanted to throw up, but the gag in his mouth, so cruelly forced in, prevented that.  
John ended up buying him for a ridiculous sum of money. That evening in John’s bed had been excruciating, and it still amazed him that John had stopped before entering him. The gladiator could have easily destroyed Sherlock, but at the last moment, he chooses not to.  
They had solved the case of the murder at the colosseum. Sherlock expected John to leave him for certain death after he followed the murderer into the carriage. Surprisingly, the gladiator arrived for his rescue, and even killed the man only when there was no other possibility. John was an excellent fighter, a talented medicus, a good cook, a kind man with deep blue eyes, but a kind smile. He also found a lighter collar for him that didn’t hurt his marks so much and also opened the cuffs from his hands and ankles. As a slave he wasn’t allowed to wear a toga, but John bought him better clothes. Sherlock felt much better after that. He had to get used to walking behind John and bowing his head, but it helped immensely that John not only trusted, but learned to admire him. Sherlock could almost fool himself that they were a team now.  
That was a naive dream. He was still a slave, and John was his master. A master that looked hungry and disappointed every night Sherlock slept on the couch.  
Sherlock was a practical person. John treated him well, they can solve cases together. He gets food every day and a roof over his head. The gladiator hasn’t hit him so far, the horrible chains were gone. Sherlock told himself to look in the future. John could easily sell him every day, maybe to the brothel or to the mines. Sherlock would continue to make the best out of his situation. Running away was a suicide mission, and Mycroft could be anywhere.  
He would do it tonight. He would allow John to take his virginity, before John made the decision for him. John was well-built, a beautiful man. Sherlock had to believe he would not hurt him.  
  
The gladiator himself ripped him out of his thoughts. While he and the new addition to the school had been training, Sherlock had cared for John’s armour. That the man already trusted him with that after declaring otherwise during their first talk was incredible.

  
  
“Hi, Sherlock! Have you finished your task?“

  
  
With a sigh Sherlock turned around: “Yes, John. I have finished the difficult task of cleaning your stuff. I do am capable of simple housework.“

  
  
John laughed. “After you burned the soup, I am not so sure of that any more.“

 

Now or never. Sherlock pouted, he noticed that John loved it when he did that. “You should know that my talents lie completely elsewhere indeed.“  
He closed the gap between their bodies and let his hand wander to the gladiators trousers.

  
“Let me show them to you, tonight.“ , he whispered and slipped his fingers into John’s knickers. His index finger circled around the man’s (enormous) cock.  
John gasped and stopped his finger from moving deeper. His mouth pressed on his for a moment, both of them breathing the other in. John smelled of sweat, red wine,  eucalyptus and another smell Sherlock couldn’t quite identify. He shivered when John pressed their bodies close together.   


 

“The wait is going to be agonizing.“ , John said. Sherlock was still in a state of shock after their intimacy and nearly didn’t hear him when John told him to watch over his next training fight. John finally took his hand and guided him to the training hall.  


  
John sparred against two fairly new slaves, both had short swords and a wooden shield as weapons. Sherlock could see that John played more than fought with them. The gladiator wanted to show the new slaves how to survive, and a swift defeat would teach them nothing. The fight took about ten minutes, and ended with John disarming both of them. Sherlock had to clean the weapons and put them away, but he didn’t mind much. At least the weapon chamber was out of the burning sun.  
Sherlock was about to leave again when suddenly a man loomed behind him. A meaty hand landed on his shoulder and pinned him to the wall. The slave John had fought against in the morning was now before him, a sleazy smile on his face.

  
  
“So you are John’s new plaything, eh? Do you think you are better than everyone else, prancing proudly around here like you aren’t wearing a collar like anyone else?“   


  
He grabbed his waist and pushed him against the wall. Sherlock tried to push him away, but unfortunately the training had already been effective. The man overpowered him easily.  


  
“You have no right to address him like that,“ Sherlock snarled, “he is a free man, and you must respect him!“ John didn’t deserve to be insulted by that imbecile!  


  
“Let me show how much I respect him. My wife was sold to a rich household, and I am going to be slaughtered here! I have no respect for any Roman.“   


  
Sherlock could hardly stop himself from rolling eyes. This man was so stupid if he thought this would help his dire situation in any way.  
Thankfully John had heard the ruckus and stormed into the chamber. His thunderous expression when he saw the man cornering him took Sherlock by surprise. Did John actually care about him?  
The gladiator grabbed the now suddenly begging man and dragged him by his sleeve back to the arena. Sherlock hurried after them.  
Gladius stared first at John, then at the crying slave.

 

“What has he done now?“  


 

“He tried to hurt my property!“ , John spat out and threw the man on the ground.  


 

“Oh Anders,“ Gladius sighed, “What am I going to do with you?“  


 

“Please don’t punish me master, please! I will do everything I can to make it up to you, I promise. I will work harder!“  


 

Gladius glowered at the pathetic slave. He was contemplating what to do.  


 

“John? Sherlock is your slave. How do you want Anders to be punished?“  


 

“He has to apologize to him.“  


 

“Right.“ Gladius nodded.  


 

“I am sorry, Sherlock! Please tell them not to hurt me, I’m a good man, I promise!“  


  
“You are no longer a man, Anders. You are a slave! It’s time to act like one. No food for you for the next two days, you will be the first and the last training, take over Sherlock’s duties and then on the next fighting day, I will give you the chance to prove yourself!“

  
  
Anders whimpered while Gladius was talking. His nose was running too. They all knew that Gladius would choose a hard opponent for him.  


  
At least John seemed somewhat satisfied. He and Gladius shook hands, and then they both went on their way.  


  
Upon leaving the gladiator school, John said: “I want to stop at the market. We need more food.“   


  
“I thought we were living on a tight budget?“   


  
“I feel like celebrating today.“   


  
Sherlock blushed: “We’re celebrating me losing my virginity?“   


  
John laughed. Sherlock loved to make him produce these adorable giggling sounds. It gave him a glowing feeling all over.  


  
“If you want to see it that way.“   


  
They reached their destination and stopped at a shop that sold meat. The market was thankfully rather deserted on this time of day, and only a few customers were walking around. Sherlock noticed a pregnant woman with long red hair. This colour was hardly seen in Rome, but Sherlock could not see any markings of a slave. Maybe a wealthy Roman had found her and brought her to the capital?  
John brought him out of his mind again.  


  
“Have you ever eaten a wild pig?“   


  
“No, never. They were too hard to kill, and so we never bothered. My mother always cooked chicken though.“   


  
Mycroft hated hunting. He preferred sitting at their kitchen table, planning his political future, while Sherlock tried to attract bees to their garden. Their father shot the animals, and he resented his sons that they wouldn’t accompany him.  


  
“Then we will eat that.“   


  
While John was buying groceries, Sherlock concentrated on the talk between two free men. His curiosity rose when he heard them mentioning the name ‚Spartacus‘ in a  hushed voice, like a dark secret.   


  
“John,“ he whispered, “who is Spartacus?“   


  
The gladiator hastily finished his business and quickly lead him away from the crowd.

 

“Better don’t say that name in public. He is rather feared.“  


  
“Feared?“ , Sherlock frowned. In his short time in the capital, he had learned that not much could scare these people.  


  
“Spartacus used to be a Thracian mercenary who later became a Roman soldier, but he deserted the army. They caught him and sold him because of his strength to a  gladiator school near Capua. A few months ago he fled together with 70 men. It’s said that they are hiding on Mount Vesuvius now.“   


  
“The Roman legions are busy elsewhere now, so no one can attack them now.“, Sherlock deduced.   


  
“Correct, but I heard that a militia is now on its way to besiege them.“

  
  
Spartacus and his friends must hope that they could overturn the Roman Empire with run-away slaves, Sherlock taught. Could something like that really succeed? John interrupted his thinking.   


  
“I don’t want to talk about the bloody war now.“   


  
John hugged Sherlock closer to him and steered him towards the insulae. Tonight was going to be about them.  


 

 

* * *

 

  
John ended up preparing a delicious meal consisting of the chicken, bread and some vegetables that were imported from other regions, like carrots, beans and celery. It was all cut into several small pieces. He served it with the typical red wine, and Sherlock drank a bit extra tonight.  
Sherlock ended up washing the plates and joined John back on the couch afterwards. He didn’t know how start this, so he chose the thing that they both genuinely enjoyed doing: kissing. Sherlock melted into John’s lips with a gasp. John makes a strangled noise in return and buries his fingers in his curls.  
  
“Fucking finally.“ , the gladiator growled in his deep voice that made Sherlock whimper. John pushes his lips open and then their tongues are playing with each other.  
After they had sufficiently explored each others mouth, John shoved a hand between Sherlock’s legs and felt his length. The slave had begun to grow hard during the heated kissing, and reacted  
to John’s touch embarrassingly fast. Sherlock blushed when he felt John's warm, callous fingers on his cock.  
  
“Let’s take this to bed.“ , John grunted and stood up. He swiftly lifted Sherlock’s thin body into his arms and carried him to their bedroom. To Sherlock’s surprise he didn’t throw him on it like the last time, but gently lay him down on top of it. His head was cushioned by a pillow, and they both looked at each other for a moment.

  
  
“Do you want this?“ , John murmured.  


  
Sherlock nodded quickly. Yes, he wanted this. John made him feel desirable and beautiful. Sherlock felt safe with him.  


  
“Good,“ John rasped, “because from now on I won’t be able to stop.“   


  
His apt fingers wandered quickly to his clothes. With a sudden movement, he tore Sherlock’s dark tunic open. He sat up a bit to help open John’s toga. His fingers got caught in the complicated garment, until John just ripped it away. The gladiator threw the garments into the corner and reached impatient for a lubricant. His movements were fast, but calculated. They both were already panting and flush with excitement.  
Sherlock swallowed his nervousness and spread his long legs apart. Now or never, he was ready.  
John stroked over his pale flesh, then dipped down and started kissing him between his thighs. Sherlock inhaled sharply and arched his back when John whispered: „Touch me.“ into his flesh. Sherlock obeyd gladly and took the gladiators cock in his hand.

  
„Fuck, yes.“, rasped John. One of his fingers caressed over his chest before landing on his hardness again. He stroked it for a few moments too, and Sherlock arched his hips at the new sensation.

 

„Turn around.“, growled John. Sherlock didn’t react fast enough because he felt so stunned, so John flipped him on his chest and tugged a soft pillow under his hip. Sherlock buried his nose into the soft pillow and waited.

  
There was a moment of only heavy breathing while John apparently slicked his fingers with the lubricant. The gladiator wretched a knee between his thighs. Sherlock breathed in. His legs were shivering like crazy. Then, he felt a fingertip at his entrance. The slave gasped, and John pressed him back down on the mattress, like he was an overexcited horse. He gently shushed him, before a second fingers pressed into him. Sherlock let out a whimper while John was slowly stretching him open.

 

„Oh god, Sherlock, you are so tight!“

 

Sherlock felt like he was going to explode from the anticipation alone. He wriggled his legs to signal John to finally get on it with, damn it!

 

„You really saved yourself up,didn’t you?“ , John teased.

 

The gladiator finally answered Sherlock’s prayer when he pulled out his now three fingers, leaving Sherlock feeling empty for a terrible second. John situated himself in front of his arse, lined up his cock to his hole and then he plunges slowly inside him.

Sherlock whimpered, both as the new feeling of weirdness and also because of a sudden wave of pain in his belly. John kissed his shoulderblades and whispered his name into his skin. They waited for a moment until Sherlock’s uneasiness faded, then John drove deeper into him, inch for inch. When Sherlock was fully stretched, the gladiator punded into him and the slave finally groaned in pleasure. It felt so good to have John inside him. He felt grounded, like he belonged somewhere. Thoughts of his elder brother and his dad were uncomfortably nagging on his mind. What would they say if they noticed him, as a slave, getting fucked by a Roman soldier?

 

„You are so fucking beautiful.“, grunted the gladiator.

 

Well, he never cared much about their opinion anyway.

John’s gentle hands around his waist brought him thankfully back. He had settled into a comfortable rhythm, but speed up again as he felt his climax approach. His movements became faster and he pushed against _something_ in Sherlock that made his toes curl in pleasure.  With a last movement John came in him, and with a last stroke from John he orgasmed too. They were both sweaty from head to toe, but John didn’t pull out yet. He pulled Sherlock closer to him and rolled him on his side. Sherlock felt his strong hands around his body, covering him from behind. He sighed in bliss.

 

„That was the best fuck I have ever had.“, murmured John. His nose nuzzled into Sherlock’s curls.The slave hmmmd in agreement.

 

„Are you satisfied with me?“, he asked John. The gladiator chuckled and rolled his hips a bit, so the cock in Sherlock shifted to the side. Sherlock purred.

 

They kept cuddling until the come has dried all over them. John got up and cleaned them both with a wet flannel.

 

When John carefully washed his hole with the flannel, Sherlock felt another shudder of pleasure running through him. His right leg curled around John’s shoulder before he even registered it.

 

„Wanna go again?“, said John, amusement glinting in his eyes. The gladiators hand closed around his shaft and tugged at it.

 

„Yeah, let’s do it again.“

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> gladius-short sword  
> ludus-gladiator school  
> Graecostadium-big slave market  
> sestertii-coins  
> tituli-placard with slave's qualities


End file.
